


Dog Days

by DerpyMcButtface



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, Stacker Pentcost's Handwriting, Turtles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:34:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerpyMcButtface/pseuds/DerpyMcButtface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their requests for a turtle are refused, the Wei Tang Triplets find some solace in kidnapping Max from Chuck. Done for a prompt.</p><p>“We can’t just leave him alone in the hallway,” Jin argues defensively. </p><p>“Yes we can. He’s not our dog….” Hu sighs as he realizes he’s fighting a losing battle. Max waddles over and drools on his feet in a friendly way. Admitting defeat, Hu pats him on the head gently. The dog’s fur is velvety, not sharp or bristly like he was expecting. There’s something soothing about his rhythmic panting too. Still, he’s not going to admit it in front of his brothers. “Stinks like animal,” he complains, wrinkling his nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days

“Still…” Jin waves his hand in front of his face, exaggerating a disgusted expression. “White people smell,” he says. 

“Says the Atomic Farter,” Cheung stated blandly, not looking up from his magazine.

“Shut up!” 

“What’s that?” Jin asks, craning his neck over. “…Are animals even allowed inside the dome?”

“No, why?” Hu asks, wondering why the Marshall won’t even let him have just one turtle. 

“The Australians bought a dog!”

All three triplets rush to the side of the table, trying to look disinterested and failing as the Striker pilots walk by, a stout bulldog waddling along beside them. 

“Not fair!” Hu exclaims to his brothers. “They can bring a whole dirty dog in, but I can’t have a turtle?”

“…Service dog,” Cheung points out. 

“No way! If you need a service dog, you shouldn’t be in a Jaeger,” Hu says in a huff.

“Maybe he’s retarded,” Jin offers, and the three of them break out in laughs.

“….I’d pretend to be retarded if it meant I can have a dog too, though,” Hu says wistfully.

\-------------------------------------------

 

They’re carrying extra mosquito nets to their room when Cheung feels someone staring at them in the hallway. 

“Guys…?”

“What?”

“Guys, someone’s following us.”

“Yes, because we’re just that interesting,” Hu snorts. “Come on, quit it. Let’s get these nets up before we get eaten alive.”

“No, really, someone’s- hey! Hey guys!” Cheung exclaims, dropping his pile of plastic. “It’s the Australian dog!”

“What?” Hu turns around, and sure enough, at the end of the hallway, there’s the bulldog, watching them with his droopy eyes. “Where’s the loud guy then?”

“No, I think the dog just walked off,” Cheung observes, kneeling down next to the bulldog and holding up a loose leash. “Looks like Australian Guy tied him to something but he yanked free…” He lifts the tag with his fingers. “Max.”

“That fits him, dumb name for a dumb dog,” Hu mutters. 

Jin laughs. “Come on Hu, get over your turtle. The dog’s better than a turtle!”

“No it’s not! Turtles are cute. This dog is ugly! It looks like Dumpling Lady!”

“Well turtles can’t do tricks, can they? Dog! Max! Max, sit!” Jin joins Cheung next to their visitor. “Sit!”

Max just drools on the carpet.

“Come on. I told you he was a stupid dog,” Hu says to a crestfallen Jin. 

“No… No, I don’t think that’s it… Sit,” Cheung commands in English.

With a whine, the bulldog dumps his hindquarters onto the floor as Cheung and Jin cackle in glee. “See? See? Who’s the stupid one now?”

Hu rolls his eyes and turns away, stomping into their shared quarters. “Come on, guys.” He feels them following behind them, and surprised that they followed his directions without complain, turns around. They’ve come in all right, but so has Max.

“We can’t just leave him alone in the hallway,” Jin argues defensively. 

“Yes we can. He’s not our dog….” Hu sighs as he realizes he’s fighting a losing battle. Max waddles over and drools on his feet in a friendly way. Admitting defeat, Hu pats him on the head gently. The dog’s fur is velvety, not sharp or bristly like he was expecting. There’s something soothing about his rhythmic panting too. Still, he’s not going to admit it in front of his brothers. “Stinks like animal,” he complains, wrinkling his nose. 

Twenty minutes later, Max is panting in their bathtub, up to his short neck in bubbles. 

“Whew! Look at all that grime,” Cheung exclaims in triumph as they drain and refill the tub a third time. “Did this dog never have a bath?”

“More like he’s dragging his belly through the Jaeger maintenance stations everyday,” Jin muses. “If you had to crawl through that mess, you’d be dirty too.”

“Fourth rinse,” Hu announces, and moves the showerhead so that the water is spraying right onto Max. They’re all soaked through and Cheung had slipped in shampoo and hit his head on the counter, but he can’t suppress a grin. “Good thing he has short fur. Imagine giving one of those Yorkie things a bath.”

It takes them all their towels to dry Max off before Cheung scrounges up a battered old hairdryer. The bulldog is dry in ten more minutes, and the triplets stand back to admire their work.

“He looks like a movie star,” Jin says in satisfaction.

“Or a show dog,” Cheung adds, and Hu nods in agreement. Max’s squashed ugly face looks like a fine specimen of a breed of dog known for especially squashed, ugly faces, so he can’t see any problem with that.

“Not to mention he doesn’t stink anymore. …And that we’re out of shampoo,” Hu adds. 

“Worth it,” Cheung sighs, admiring their handiwork. “You know, he actually doesn’t look too dumpy when he’s cleaned up- hey, where are you going?” 

Max has turned tail on the triplets and is scratching at the door, barking. Puzzled, Hu walks over to unlock and open it, only to be met with a furious Australian.

“You guys took my dog?! Do you know how worried I was, thinking the Russians ate him?” he shouted, forehead red in anger. 

“What, we gave your dog a bath because he stinks!” Hu snaps defensively.

“He didn’t stink, but now he smells like- flowers and shit! My dog doesn’t smell like girly shit! Come on Max, we’re getting this off you,” Chuck growls, and Max happily follows his owner out the door. 

Hu sticks his head out the door and shouts, “It’s mangosteen!”

\-----------------------------------------

 

“Gui, gui!” Jin laughs, shaking Max’s head so that the bulldog’s skin folds flop around. “Good boy!” he says in English, and picks up the long black object again. 

“Dumb boy,” Hu grumbles. 

“What’s that you’re throwing to him?” Cheung asks idly, watching their game from over an old comic book. “Looks like a little missile.”

“I dunno. Found it in the hallway outside the Russians’ room,” Jin replies, unconcerned.

Hu’s head whips around. “…Jin, it’s not something of theirs, is it?”

“Come on, the guy’s twice our size, but there’s three of us,” Jin says lazily. 

“It’s not the man I’m worried about! Lai, lai,” he says to Max, and the bulldog trots over to drop the slobbery object on his knee. Hu examines it. It’s a shiny black, smooth and about six inches long, with a widened base “Yeah, I dunno what it is either. Oh, it’s got a switch-“ He flips it on, and drops it in surprise when the thing starts shaking, vibrating over the floor like a fish out of water.

“It’s possessed!” Cheung shouts, hurling his book at the object. “What is it?”

“I don’t know! Hu- You pick it up!” Jin snaps.

“Why should I?! You’re the one who made it start running away!” 

“I’m not touching it- what if it’s dangerous?”

“Pick it up or I’ll show you dangerous!”

“I don’t even know what it is!” Jin shouts, clambering up the bleachers as if trying to get to higher ground. 

“It’s mine, that’s what it is,” a cold, female voice brushes right onto Hu’s head like a Siberian blizzard.

Hu turns around slowly. He swallows hard but nods respectfully, folding his hands behind his back. “Excuse me?”

The Russian pilot, the scary woman, crosses her arms and tightens her lips. “I said, it’s mine. Pick it up and give it to me.”

“Sorry, did Jin take your thing?” he says stiffly. “Jin, pick it up!”

If it had just been his brother, Jin would have thrown a basketball at him. But the look on the woman’s face tells him it’s better to obey. Gingerly, his fingers close around the moving object, and he shuffles up behind Hu and sticks his arms out.

The Russian grabs it and flips the switch on its bottom, and the object goes still with a last buzz. Angrily eyeing Max’s drool all over it, she grabs the bottom of Hu’s shirt (he goes as stiff as a board) and wipes it off as best she can, then shoves him back. “If I catch any of you with my toys again, we will end you,” she threatens coldly, slamming the basketball court door behind her as she leaves.

For a moment, everyone is silent, and even Max looks like he was trying to melt into the ground. Then Cheung lets out a laugh. “Hah! You should have seen the looks on your faces!” he snorts. “You guys were gonna die.”

“Shut up Cheung, I didn’t see you leaping in to save us,” Jin barks sullenly. 

“What a bitch! She could have asked nicely!” Hu exclaims, slowly regaining his composure. “I can’t stand Russians.”

“You can’t stand those two particular Russians,” Cheung corrects.

“Or their music.”

“If you can call it music. Even Max doesn’t like it. Right Max? Lai, lai.” Jin pats his knee as the bulldog trots over. “Look, if we can get the four of us to argue a case in front of the Marshall…”

“One, we don’t have a case to argue- they’re technically not doing anything wrong per se… Two, I already told the Marshall. He just said to buy an iPod. Three, Max is a dog,” Cheung scolds him. 

“It’s worth a shot. If he can melt Hu’s cold heart, he can probably-“

“Hey! I’m not-“

The double doors slam open again, and all three brothers cringe, fearing the return of the Russians. They all sag in relief as a familiar obnoxious accent screams in. 

“Oi! Did you guys- you guys took Max!” the Australian boy accuses. Upon seeing his real owner, Max lifts his head off of Jin’s knee and eagerly wobbles towards Chuck. 

Cheung and Jin look disappointed.

“I don’t know what you call it,” the other pilot continues, “but where we come from, taking other people’s pets is called stealing. So quit it!”

“We didn’t take him, he followed us!” Hu replies, standing up.

But the Australian only waves a rude gesture at them before exiting, dog following on his heels.

\----------------------------------------

“Thos chinks keep on taking my dog, and I’m afraid they’re going to eat Max or something-“

“Chuck.” Herc gave him an angry, warning glance.

“Okay Dad, fine. But they keep taking Max, and it’s like I can’t let him out of my sight or one of those guys holds up a plate of leftovers and off he goes! Traitor, that’s what he’s called now,” Chuck grumbles. 

Herc isn’t sure how to not anger his son. “Well, you know the golden rule… Sharing is caring? From what I heard, the triplets have been fighting Marshall Pentcost tooth and nail for permission to get a turtle… They love animals, and they are our comrades-“

Chuck glares at him balefully before picking up Max and stomping out of the door.

\-----------------------

“What is it, Hu?” Jin peers over his brother’s face. “You look disappointed…”

Hu flips over the paper he’s holding. The PDCC official header is on the top, and underneath, in Pentcost’s handwriting, “NO TURTLE.”

“Apparently it’s more of a safety hazard than nuclear reactors and welders and aerosol carcinogens,” Hu grumbles, picking as his food dispiritedly. 

Cheung pats his brother’s back. “Oh, I know,” he says, looking over at the Australian (and now American) table. He clears his throat. “Max? Max, lai-ah, lai-ah.”

Chuck stands up. “Hey, what are you saying to my dog-“ 

With a woof, Max jumps off the seat and trots over trustingly to the Chinese triplets. Hu cracks a wide smile and puts his tray on the ground for him. 

“Hey- hey- Don’t feed him that shit, he doesn’t eat Chinese food!” The young pilot yells angrily, stomping over to where Hu is feeding the bulldog some cold noodles.

“He liked the egg tarts just fine,” Jin asserts, crossing his arms.

“What-“

“Shut up Jin, those were supposed to be mine, the dumb dog wasn’t supposed to-” Hu exclaims. 

“Well, Max enjoyed them more than you did-“

“Seriously, guys! Quit. Taking. My. Dog. Max-“

“What? It’s not like we’re stealing him- at least we don’t expose him to carcinogens and fumes all day!” Hu stands up and puts his hands on his hips. 

There’s a silence for one moment as Chuck tries to get his temper under control. “Are you accusing me of-“

“And at least we don’t make him eat that greasy fast food you’re always-“

“Greasy fast food?! You just confessed to giving him egg tarts! Do you guys even know dogs aren’t supposed to have sugar?” Chuck’s eyes narrow and slowly and deliberately, he steps forward and shoves Hu.

“Hey!” Cheung stands up abruptly, knocking his tray over. “Apologize to us!”

“Hell no, you’re the ones who should be saying sorry to me!”

“Well-“ Hu thrusts his elbow back, preparing for a punch, only to have it connect with something solid.

Sasha Kaidonovsky lets out a very uncharacteristic yelp as Hu’s limb connects with her side. A bowl of her hangover cure oatmeal topples onto her, spilling scalding-hot grain down her shirt.

“Uh…” Very slowly, all four young men begin backing away, trying to spot the closest exit. 

The Russian woman throws her tray down and stares at them as if she were debating which one to kill first. Her lip twitched coldly, her face smoldering with barely-suppressed irritation. “#@(*$)@#,” she growls low in her throat, and takes a step forward, as her husband appears at her shoulder.

With a sharp bark, Max’s claws skid on the cement floor as he leaps up, running between Hu and the Russians. He snarls, but his flabby lips just make it look like he’s pouting. The stout dog begins barking gruffly, but he looks like a dwarf in front of the pilots. Aleksis grumbles something to his wife, and for a sickening moment, Hu worries that the Russians are qualify up some animal abuse. But to everyone’s surprise, she lets out a laugh and reaches out her foot to pat Max’s head roughly. Humored, she gives the young men a lazy once-over before spitting out some quick Russian to her partner.

Aleksis looks like he wants to bend down and pet Max, but Sasha puts a hand on his shoulder and leads him away, presumably back to their room for a change of clothes.

The moment the Russians leave, Chuck growls, “This is ridiculous- Max didn’t lift a paw when Mr. Russian threw me in the washer!” 

“Well, that’s because Max knew you deserved it.”

“Hey, I didn’t know she as a married woman, it- Max, your traitor!” Chuck exclaims, picking up the bulldog, who whines and licks his face.

“He’s not a traitor. He’s a smart dog,” Hu snorts, before he realizes what he just said. 

Jin and Cheung grin to each other. They aren’t planning on letting their brother live it down.

**Author's Note:**

> I like some parts of this. Maybe someday I'll rewrite it into a coherent story.


End file.
